Expurgate
by Animefangirl2
Summary: -One shot- We all cope with a loss in different ways, this is her way.


**Expurgate**

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

_**Summary:** We all cope with a loss in different ways; this is her way._

A/N: Very dark one-shot here. Rating for language and sort-of-suicidal references. Don't like this kind of story, don't read it. Thank you.

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The cycle always begins at the end of the month. First you feel a tingle feeling in the pit of your stomach, like a newly-opened bottle of champagne. It reminds you of what must get done. At first you had feared and dreaded it, but now you know that that doesn't make a hell of a difference, so nowadays you embrace it with open arms.

Every time something bad and unplanned happens, you add it to your already long list. You can't deal with the problem at the moment, but you will later. You'll fix things, because anything and everything can be fixed.

You repeat that to yourself whenever you start to doubt, to remember, to regret. This is not a bad thing, this is a good thing. A very good thing. Because it cleanses you; washes away all the impurities of the past month. And it's the only thing that is able to, because every other way is too noticeable. And if anyone was to notice it, it would ruin everything.

Because this is yours and only yours. Your precious little secret that you would never allow anyone to discover. If you were to be found out, they would destroy it and take it away from you. And you can't live without it. This is yours, and no one would ever take it away from you. _Ever._

You've tried to go on without it, but it's just too damn hard. The tingle turns into an itch, a horrible itch that won't go away until you're cleansed. Until the bad is gone and all that's left is the new, the good.

This is your way to deal with everything. Your coping method. You tried working out until complete exhaustion, eating only natural food, meditation, even gone as far as prayer. Nothing ever worked until you discovered this new way of purification.

Today's the day. Today the cycle will end until the next month. You have everything ready and waiting like always. You just have to wait for the right moment.

While you wait, you become more and more irritated. The littlest of things begin to annoy you, like the too-cold air that the ceiling fan creates or the faint snips of Jet's bonsai clippers. But you never act on them, because you're too used to it by now.

As you walk through the hallway, you pass Jet and he touches your arm to get your attention. "Faye," he says, the slightest hint of worry in his voice, "are you okay? You don't look too well."

You shake your head. "I'm fine, Jet. Really," you add when doubt crosses his face. You flash him a smile, but in truth you want to scowl, get the fuck away, I'm busy. Instead you're nice, because you don't want him to think that something is wrong.

But nothing's wrong. Just as long as you complete your monthly ritual, then nothing will ever be wrong.

You walk away from him as fast as you can. You don't feel like talking, you never feel like talking during the cycle. You just want to get it done because the tingle has slowly progressed into the itch over the long hours since you got back from bounty hunting.

You lock the door of the bathroom and relax just a fraction. Hear your heart practically pounding out of your chest, feel the excited hiss of the blood in your veins. And oh thank _god_, it was finally time. You grin, but this one isn't fake like the previous one. It's full of eager. Just plain _eager._

You double-check to make sure that the door _is_ locked and your empty stomach growls expectantly. You haven't eaten anything for three days, even though you and Jet have plenty of food. It's just another part of the cycle, part of the cleansing process. You don't feel heavy and weighted down by food, but instead are light and fast.

Hot water pours into the tub as you put the plug in. Under the sink and just slightly to the left is the bag. You reach and pull it out and spread the contents on the counter. Five freshly-washed hand towels, razor, a bottle of apple juice, and ammonium carbonate. The latter is just in case you lose focus, lose control. So far, that hasn't happened. But you feel more comfortable knowing it's there just in case.

Looking up, you notice that the mirror is steamed over. You almost _(almost)_ laugh because it gives you the eerie appearance of a phantom.

You step into the tub after checking the water temperature and slide into a sitting position. After a few minutes of relaxation, you reach over and grab the blade from where it sat.

The arm outstretched in front of you bares a few faded scars. You hate scars. So you're constantly wearing your red jacket to hide them. Scars would mean that someone might see, and _know._ They'd take away your most treasured knowledge, your only link to sanity. And as stated before, _no one_ was going to take this away from you.

Training and exercise for many years taught you which the most prominent vessels were. Just a small snick over the radial artery, deep but not wide, and beautiful scarlet blossoms in the water. You lean back, finally able to fully relax in hot water.

_(Bang)_

You sit up so quickly that you become light-headed and have to lean back again. That had never happened for over six months. Why are you suddenly remembering it now?

_(I'm not going there to die...)_

You grab a towel and apply pressure to the cut. The cleansing process isn't nearly finished, but you have the sudden urge to leave.

_(I'm going to see if I'm truly alive)_

Why, why, why, why, why! This isn't supposed to be happening. This was supposed to get rid of that! Be rid of it forever!

You throw the towel in the trashcan and grab another one. It's ruined anyway; it's covered with tainted blood. You grab a much larger towel and wrap yourself in its warmth while climbing out of the tub. Quickly, you pull the plug out and silently watch as the water drains away with your polluted blood.

That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to remember _that._ It was the whole reason why you started this in the first place. To forget. To forget _everything._

You clutch your hands to your face, taking in deep breaths. You can feel your body trembling, so you carefully slide into a sitting position. Tears are quickly forming in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

_You will not cry for him._

No, not him. Not that fucking, selfish son of a bitch. He was probably already damned to hell for all eternity, so why bother to waste any emotions on him?

But you can't help it. Because this entire thing was for him, because of him. If he hadn't left, none of this would've ever happened.

Yet he _did_ leave. And you know that. So after you calm down, brush the tears away, and are able to stand on your own two feet, you'll continue until you're rid of every drop of impurity.

_Of every drop of him._

He was the reason why you were so tainted. You have to get him out of your system. So you'll continue your best-kept secret until he's completely gone.

_From your body and from your memory._

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A/N: Yet another dark fic brought to you by yours truly. Please review, whether you liked it or not.

"Though this be madness, yet there is method in't."

-William Shakespeare's Hamlet (Act II, Scene II)


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